


What's it Mean?

by wesleyfanfiction_archivist



Category: Angel: the Series
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-09-07
Updated: 2005-09-06
Packaged: 2018-05-31 05:12:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 205
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6457231
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wesleyfanfiction_archivist/pseuds/wesleyfanfiction_archivist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>An explanation for Wes's later tendency for jewelry in the series.  Wes/Virginia.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. 1/2

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Versaphile, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [WesleyFanfiction.net](http://fanlore.org/wiki/WesleyFanFiction.Net). Deciding that it needed to have a more long-term home, I began importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in February 2016. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact the e-mail address on [WesleyFanfiction.net collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/wesleyfanfiction/profile).

Back when he was dating Virginia, when he had been surrounded by buckets of money, and frivolous purchases, she’d bought him a chain. 

It wasn’t particularly extravagant - the pendant a dog. Fidelity, loyalty, man’s best friend, him being her pet, or who knew what symbology had possessed her to buy it.

He remembered her soft, plain hands and her one scant fluttering kiss to the back of his neck when she’d fastened it on.

He’d never paid it much mind. But he had kept it. Wore it sometimes.

To remind himself that he would never have anything normal again.


	2. 2/2

Wes fingered the chain draped along his neck. 

He could still remember the smell of Cordelia’s perfume the day she gave it to him. He had just joined Angel Investigations and she had told him it was a welcome-to-L.A. present. 

Now, here he was, hand tentatively perched on Angel’s shoulder blade reminded painfully of that naive, self-involved girl. The woman who had just fought her last battle, and who hadn’t been that girl in years. And who always seemed to know just what her “family” needed.

He felt the chain ghost across his skin when Angel turned to look at him, eyes dark and lost.


End file.
